My Kingdom For A Swordfight!
by ScroogeMcDuck
Summary: Sibling rivalry, sonnet writing and sword fighting, starring some of the known and loved characters of Richard The Third. Not to be taken seriously in the slightest...hopefully somewhat amusing nonetheless.


My Kingdom For A Swordfight?!

**A/N: This has been awhile in the writing (goodness knows why) but it's finally here. XD Some sibling rivalry, sonnet writing and sword fighting from some of the well known and loved characters of Shakespeare's 'Richard III'. I apologize in advance for probable historical inaccuracies and whatnot. Here's hoping you enjoy it nonetheless! XD**

Richard being the fourth surviving child in the family was always pushed to the side by his older brothers, Edward, George and Edmund. Things got a bit better when Edmund was killed in battle but not by much. Richard was generally disliked and mistrusted by those who knew him (except George but then he was always a bit dim). Our story starts on one typically English rainy day in the castle…

Richard and Edward entered the Great Hall, arguing loudly. Richard was shorter than his older brother by about a head, yet it was he who was yelling the loudest.

"If I ever find out you rode /my/ horse again-"

"I'm telling you, I never touched your stupid horse! It was-"

"Stupid? /Stupid/? My horse can count, I'll have you know! And what can yours do?"

"If you'll just listen! It wasn't me who rode your horse! It was G-"

"Not only are you lying but now you're trying to blame someone else! How low can you stoop?"

Edward, with great difficulty, resisted the urge to bash his head against the wall in frustration. How could Richard say that? He was the one who lied and blamed anyone else to get himself out of trouble. Then again, it was often a favourite tactic of his to play the innocent. And why was he getting so het up about this anyway? It was /just a horse/.

As he was so busy thinking these thoughts over, Edward hadn't had time to notice Richard moving towards him, the mad look in his eyes he always got when he was incredibly angry. Edward did notice, and as well he might, when Richard punched him in the face.

It was at that point that George, Duke of Clarence, happened to enter the room. Seeing Edward reeling back from shock (not to mention the impact of Richard's blow) the former hurried forward and, in an attempt to get revenge for Edward, leapt at he who had done the punching.

Richard, of course, wasn't expecting this and was sent crashing to the ground. He looked up in time to see a very surprised George backing away, his hat askew, seemingly amazed that his endeavor had paid off. Seeing George hurry over to Edward, rejoicing in his victory (or at least it looked that way) only served to make things worse.

"Thank you George but…why did you just do that?" Edward asked, he himself looking rather confused at George's action.

"Well…he hit you. So…I hit him. For your sake. You know."

"George, that's not how it works."

"No?"

"No."

"Oh. Well, I'm sure Richard will forgive me…won't he?"

The pair of them looked over at Richard who had, by this time got back onto his feet and was glowering at the pair of them.

"I wouldn't count on it," Edward said, uneasily.

"What were you two arguing about anyway?" said George, shooting Richard an apologetic look before turning back to Edward. It was Edward's turn to glower…it's was George's fault the whole argument had started (although George was, of course, unaware of this fact).

"Richard's horse," Edward said, suppressing a laugh at the ridiculousness of the whole situation. "He thinks I'm the one who rode him last and didn't re-adjust the saddle afterwards or something. But it wasn't me, was it?" This was a rhetorical question but George didn't get it…as usual.

"Wasn't it? I thought it was!"

"George…"

The doors to the Great Hall were flung open yet again and in walked the young Duke of Buckingham, his head buried in a very official looking piece of parchment. He was reading as he walked and, as such, only avoided walking straight into Edward when Edward sidestepped out of the way. Buckingham must have noticed he wasn't alone in the room at that point and he looked up from the scroll and glanced over his shoulder to see Edward, George and Richard, all looking confusedly at him.

Buckingham gave the threesome a hasty bow and refolded the scroll, tucking it under his arm.

"Good time of day unto you all," he said, with his usual un-nerving formality. The three brothers replied the greeting and then Buckingham inquired what all the racket had been about a few seconds ago. It was difficult, he explained, for one to pen a sonnet when one is being distracted. Edward wondered about pointing out that Buckingham hadn't been distracted at all when he'd nearly walked into him but decided not to.

"What are you writing a sonnet about?" George asked eagerly. He was a big lover of poetry, which did little to put him high in Edward's or Richard's regards. "Flowers? Birds? Horses?"

Edward resisted the urge to bash his head against the wall again.

"No…I'm afraid not, my lord. The sonnet is, in fact, about the Wars of The Roses. Politically stirring stuff, fighting for the crown and all that."

"Oh." George sounded disappointed. Richard, however looked intrigued, to the surprise of all assembled.

"And what have you to say on the matter?" he inquired, in all seriousness.

"What's it matter to you?" Edward said unwisely, seizing at the chance to taunt Richard again. "It's not as if you'll ever be King!"

There was an awkward pause. Buckingham frowned. George's look of confusion re-appeared. Edward continued to grin.

Richard scowled.

"What makes you think I won't be?" he said eventually, in a voice of surprising calm, considering how he'd punched Edward earlier.

"Well, there's the fact the Crown'll go to me first," Edward began. "Then to my children, when I have them…"

"If not then /I'll/ be King, won't I?" George asked, still looking confused.

Edward nodded. "And if /you/ have children, when you die the crown will go to one of them."

"Righto," said George.

"So," said Edward, turning back to Richard. "The chances of you becoming King are very slim indeed."

To the great surprise of all assembled, Richard began to laugh. Edward and George exchanged glances. Buckingham simply stared,

"What's so funny?" George asked, after a few moments. "If there's some joke here, I don't get it."

"You never get it," muttered Buckingham.

Richard stopped laughing. He'd be laughing again when his brother's realized how foolish they'd been in underestimating him. But for now the laughing had to stop; he didn't want them to think he was /mad/. That would be taking things a step too far.

"What was that all about?" Edward asked Richard, once the latter's laughter had subsided.

Richard grinned. "That's for me to know, dear brother, and for you to find out."

"Oooh!" said George, excitedly. "You mean a surprise?"

"Precisely," said Richard slyly. "A surprise. One worth /dying/ for."

"Hurrah!" cried George happily. "I do so love surprises!"

For the third time that day Edward felt like ramming his head against the castle walls although he had come to realize by now that if he did that he would not only cause himself injury but cause Richard further amusement. Goodness knows he didn't want /that/.

"Well…" said Buckingham after yet another pause.

"Well what?" asked Edward wearily.

"I don't know. I haven't said anything in awhile."

Edward sighed.

Just then the doors to the Great Hall burst open yet again, and in rushed the Duchess of York, mother to Edward, George and Richard. They and Buckingham bowed hastily to her as she entered but the Duchess hardly seemed to notice as she rounded on Richard.

"What was all that about?" she snapped.

It was not only George's turn to look confused.

"All what?" asked Richard, calmly.

"The shouting, the manic laughter…what have you done /this/ time, you dreadful child?"

"He hit Edward!" George piped up. "So I hit him. And then Buckingham walked in and we started talking about his sonnet. And then-"

"You /hit/ Edward?" The Duchess talked over George, as everyone tended to do, her blazing eyes boring into Richard's. Richard could have murdered George then and there.

"Who are you going to believe?" Richard said menacingly. "George or me?"

"Good point there," muttered Buckingham.

"You stay out of this," snapped the Duchess, who had heard him. "Of course I'd take dear George's word over yours, Richard!"

"So. I hit poor, dear Edward. What are you going to do about it?" taunted Richard, amazingly seeming to enjoy the situation.

"This," snapped the Duchess, taking up the wooden sword which had been all but forgotten and brandishing it at Richard.

"Oh dear…" muttered George, hastily retreating a distance away, Edward and Buckingham not far behind.

Richard blanched. He wished he was still involved in that fruitless argument with Edward about horses, rather than facing his rather formidable mother and a wooden sword.

"Prepare to be in pain you Lancastrian scum!"

"Despair and die you…you…Yorkist!"

Richard Ratcliffe and Francis Lovell burst through the open doors of the Great Hall, fiercely engaged in a childish wooden sword fight of their own. Edward, George, Buckingham and Richard took this distraction as their cue to make a run for it out the same doors; by the time Lovell and Ratcliffe had fought their way to the opposite end of the hall the foursome had disappeared, leaving a rather confused Duchess of York in their wake.

She sighed, placing the sword on the banquet table. "I do wish those boys would play nicely for once…"

FINIS


End file.
